The last time I went to Asheville, I was in high school, in the previous century. Then I really don't remember it being cool at all. So our trip over the weekend shocked me. I'd heard Asheville was "cool" and "hip" but this being North Carolina, those terms are relative.
So imagine my surprise when I found Asheville to be cool and hip and much more like urban California than Charlotte will ever be. There were great stores and galleries and really yummy restaurants. And I realized as we were driving around town that I really, really miss the powerful vistas of Los Angeles. I realize most folks would not immediately think of natural beauty when they think of Los Angeles (ask me one day about attending the Playmate of the Year party at the Skybar in LA and I will agree), but the mountains and the ocean in LA were always stunningly beautiful. We have great trees here in Charlotte, but not the mountain ranges that were always visible in LA. I miss it.
But back to Asheville. Loved it! Want to go back! And could even fit in with my freaky self.
Oh, no. I did not feel so freaky when we first arrived. I felt quite mainstream and geeky in my Target skirt and sensible shoes. We were surrounded by the urban hip with all their piercings and ink and dreadlocks and clever sexy clothes. But I jumped to the head of the freaky line during our dinner Friday night at the upscale vegeterian restaurant. Conor seriously bumped his legs on the table and engaged in the silent screaming that lets me know that a little kiss on his knee is not going to cut it. So yes, in the middle of that restaurant, I gave a boo boo boob to my giant two-year-old-who-looks-three son. And I could feel the people around me thinking "that skirt belies the hippie contained within."
Yes, well. That is true. But now I'm back here in Charlotte, my hometown which I do love. But I think we'll be up exploring more of our mountains in the future. It really was a great weekend.